


Paradise lost and found again

by NovemberWings



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Can be read as platonic or slash depending on what you want, Comfort, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Heaven isn't great in this fic, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Men Crying, Protective Crowley, References to Paradise Lost, Sad Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Spooning, Why are the angels so mean?, deep discussions, either way it's cute, it doesn't really matter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 11:21:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19272250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovemberWings/pseuds/NovemberWings
Summary: The words of the angels' make way into Aziraphale's heart and he worries that he's no longer good. He tries to be good but always gives into temptation.Crowley doesn't like seeing his angel upset and helps him feel better.





	Paradise lost and found again

“Hey Aziraphale!” Crowley called as he stepped into Aziraphale’s flat, “You ready?” He knew the answer to the question, Aziraphale was always ready when he said he would be. It was more of an indication that Crowley, the one who was usually late, was ready to go to the café. He closed the door behind him when Aziraphale didn’t immediately emerge from whatever room he was in, ready to leave.

Crowley frowned a little after he waited for a moment too long. This had never happened before. Whenever Crowley came in like this, especially when they had planned to do something in advance, Aziraphale always bounded up to him almost like a puppy. But this time nothing. He stepped further into the flat, cautiously. He hadn’t even heard a peep from him.  
“Aziraphale?” He asked, worry finding a significant amount of place in his voice.  
“In the bedroom.” Aziraphale’s voice returned, but his voice sounded off. It sounded positive to an untrained ear, but Crowley had known him long enough to know something was up by the slight warble in his voice. 

Crowley headed into the bedroom, his worry for Aziraphale’s safety dissipating but his worry for his wellbeing increasing. 

He stepped into the bedroom and the scene was normal. The curtains were open with a gentle British rain decorating the panes, with Aziraphale sat up-right on the side of his bed with a closed book on his lap as he looked to Crowley standing in the door way.

Crowley snatched his glasses off his face to look at him properly.  
“You okay?”  
“Yes.” Aziraphale inclined his head and replied in a tone that suggested that that fact was entirely obvious. But something was up, Crowley knew it.  
“You sound upset?”  
“No no. I’m not upset. Why are you here?” He asked cocking his head to the side.  
“For the coffee shop? We arranged it yesterday.” Crowley frowned deeper at his friend, as he leaned against the door frame.  
“Oh!” Aziraphale exclaimed, “my goodness. I completely forgot. Oh I am sorry, Crowley.” He said looking aghast from where he sat on his bed.

The sight made Crowley chuckle a little, before folding his arms and taking a step into the room – a menacing aura surrounding him.  
“Right okay.” He nodded, “Here’s what’s going to happen now. Whatever’s going on you’re going to stop it now.” He raised his eyebrows at Aziraphale, who’s gentle smile didn’t falter.  
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
“You’re acting. You would never calmly sit on the side of the bed and give a half-arsed apology about how you forgot. Plus you haven’t forgotten an arrangement in the entirety of the universe, and even if you had done you would be massively over reacting and over apologising as you ran towards to the door. So what’s up? And don’t lie to me.” 

Aziraphale stared at him for a moment a soft frown taking over his gentle smile. There was a moment of hesitation before Aziraphale sighed a little.   
“Fine.” He conceded.

Suddenly the room grew darker, making Crowley’s eyes flick to the window to see the curtains suddenly drawn – the only light in the room was now emanated from a lamp on the bedside table. Also on the bedside table was an abundance of used tissues, which were also covering the floor. An now, instead of Aziraphale sitting on the bed upright in his crisp, clean and impeccable suit, he lay under the blankets on the bed, the pillows tucked around him tightly, hiding his face from the world.

Realisation hit Crowley as he understood that Aziraphale had been using a mirage, to make the scene look nicer than it was. All angels could do it but Aziraphale had never done it before.  
“A mirage? Why?” He asked, his anger completely falling away and instead being replaced with sadness and concern for his friend.  
“Because I didn’t want you to see me like this.” His friend explained from his blanket fortress, his voice completely warbling now. Crowley took a few steps towards the bed and sat on the side where Aziraphale’s fake image had just been, putting a hand on the real Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Hey, come on now, what’s wrong? What’s got you all upset?” He asked gently, knowing that that’s how Aziraphale likes to be treated but inside he was burning up with rage. He wanted to hurt whoever had made his angel cry.  
“I’m no good.” He let out a sob, resurfacing some tears that had long ago dried.  
“What do you mean?”  
“I mean… Heaven doesn’t want me.” He let out a sob, bringing a sodden tissue up to wipe at his face. “I’m too dirty for Heaven.”  
“Angel, we’ve talked about this. We’re on our side, and that’s the only side that matters.” He said, giving his shoulder a little supportive squeeze.  
“No.” Aziraphale sniffed, “I want Heaven to want me. The humans see Heaven as the epitome of goodness and if Heaven doesn’t want me it means that I’m not good. And I try to be good, Crowley. I want to be good but I’m never good enough.” He then dissolved into sobs, and Crowley was a little shaken. This was all so sudden and seemingly nothing had brought this on. Only Aziraphale thinking silly things.  
“Oh, Aziraphale.” Crowley said before standing and making his way to the other side of the bed, before pulling back the covers and getting under them – spooning Aziraphale gently. He wrapped his arm over Aziraphale’s chest and held him gently as he cried. 

After a long while he inevitably calmed down and Crowley thought it was safe to ask.  
“What brought this on hmm?” He said rubbing his chest gently, aiming to keep him calm. He sniffed, gathering himself.  
“The trip to the café.”  
“Why?” Crowley didn’t understand – Aziraphale and himself had been to that café hundreds of times.  
“Because I indulge. It’s not good. I’m always indulging and it’s not godly. It’s evil. It makes me not good – that’s why Heaven doesn’t want me.” He let out a shaky breath.

Crowley felt unimaginable rage fly through his veins. How dare the so-called ‘angels’ hurt his angel like this with their fucked up doctrine.   
“Aziraphale, listen to me. God isn’t always right. God created man and demanded their abstinence from pleasure, commands them to deny temptation from self-pleasure. But fills the world with unimaginable pleasures! It’s contradictory. And it’s cruel.” He took a breath, “You’re good, Aziraphale, you’re good. It’s Heaven and it’s God that is wrong. Why would you want an omnipresent force that delights in suffering – that enjoys dangling a pleasure before a mortal’s eyes and stops them taking it for fear of eternal torture – to call you good. A being that holds those cruel morals also holds a corrupt notion of good. And I for one am glad that you don’t fit God’s mould of ‘good’ because then, in reality, you wouldn’t be much good at all.”  
“But I enjoy too much.”  
“No. You don’t. You live like a mortal. And there’s nothing wrong with that.” He paused to think how to explain his thinking to Aziraphale. “You’ve read Paradise Lost haven’t you?” He asked.  
“Of course. It’s very good.” A little passion seeping back into his angel’s voice, and Crowley hummed – not so much in agreement but more in recognition of Aziraphale’s opinion. “But I didn’t much like Milton’s presentation of Adam and Eve in certain respects.”  
“Yes, well I didn’t like Milton’s presentation of me.” Crowley responded, making Aziraphale chuckle a little.  
“Well I though he was very accurate.” He gently jibed back.

“Hey! Rude!” Crowley gave Aziraphale a playful nudge under the blankets, making a laugh escape Aziraphale’s mouth. “Anyway, what I do agree with is Milton’s insinuation that humans are better than angels. In book 10 Milton insinuates that because God created man after the angels God knew what she was doing and as a result created a better product than her first attempt – making man superior to angel. Do you agree?”  
“Yes, I suppose I do.” Aziraphale nodded into the pillow a little, bringing up the grubby tissue to wipe again at his face.  
“Then if you live like a human, as we do, if you give into momentary pleasures and human happiness, like you do, then surely you become more human. You become better than God’s first creation of angel and start to become more like the secondary superior creation.” He paused letting his point register, “Aziraphale, just because you give into momentary pleasure and temptation it doesn’t make you bad. It makes you like a human. A beautiful human.”

“I think,” Crowley even ventured to continue, “that God secretly is testing us all. I don’t believe that God would create life to deny that life happiness. This is all an extremely meta-test to see who had the bravery to live happily, to live independently of Her will and for that they will be rewarded, not only in the afterlife – where they go to Heaven – but also now in the present, where they find happiness in the every day. Like when you stroke a stray cat and it purrs softly, making your heart vibrate with happiness or when you read finish a good book or when you, even, eat your favourite food.” 

He trailed off and he suddenly realised how much he had actually said. And he cringed slightly, knowing exactly what Aziraphale was thinking – that deep down, really, he’s a nice guy. Crowley wanted to groan knowing that he had just proved his angel right. He also suddenly realised how much he loved Aziraphale. He would do anything to make him happy – even including go on a long rant about Paradise Lost and happiness. 

“So you think that the world is basically a big meta-test of happiness, like Inception but with no murder?”  
“Sure. If you like.” Crowley shrugged, and they lay in silence for a while with Crowley gently holding Aziraphale. After a moment Aziraphale started to roll over to face Crowley, their noses almost touching.

“You’re cute sometimes. I didn’t know you liked cats so much.” His laugh juxtaposing the now drying tear tracks on his cheeks.  
“Shut up.” Crowley said as he rolled his eyes.

They lay there for a long while after before Crowley suggested;  
“Shall we go to the coffee shop then? Light rain, coffee and a sandwich sounds perfect right about now.”

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up at the suggestion.  
“Yes. It does sound perfect. Let’s go.” He stood up, and brushed himself down before snapping his fingers – fixing his hair and any sign of the despair that was so clear only an hour ago. “And can I assume that you’ll be joining me in eating?” 

Crowley sat up – and knowing that Aziraphale always enjoyed it when he chose to participate in eating with him – nodded.  
“Only because its you.” He smiled before standing and following his angel.

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this! Honestly, it was so good, and writing Crowley was great. It was almost cathartic.   
> Looking forward to writing more from this fandom.  
> And apparently studying Paradise Lost has finally come in use.
> 
> Tell me what you guys thought? Obviously, this was super deep and I'd love to hear if you agree with my interpretation or what you think?


End file.
